Applesauce
by Jordanna Morgan
Summary: Ed has always wanted to have things his way.


**Title:** Applesauce  
 **Author:** Jordanna Morgan  
 **Archive Rights:** Please request the author's consent.  
 **Rating/Warnings:** G.  
 **Characters:** Edward, Alphonse, and Trisha Elric.  
 **Setting:** Early in the boys' childhood.  
 **Summary:** Ed has always wanted to have things his way.  
 **Disclaimer:** They belong to Hiromu Arakawa. I'm just playing with them.  
 **Notes:** Elric-brothers kidfic, written for the prompt word "Apple" at Fan Flashworks.

* * *

"Aww, Mom!" whined Edward, pouting up at Mother from beside the kitchen counter. "I don't _like_ mushy applesauce. I wanted a _whole_ apple instead!"

Mother _tsk_ ed softly and shook her head, stirring a bit of sugar and cinnamon into the mash she had just made from a peeled, sliced, and lightly-boiled apple. "Not with that loose tooth of yours. I know this isn't what you want, but sometimes we can't _have_ what we want—and sometimes it's only for our own good."

Ed growled in disappointed frustration. Mother reached down to pat his head consolingly.

"Try to remember, this is just for a little while. Once your tooth comes out, you can eat hard foods again."

"Until your _next_ loose tooth," teased little Alphonse, from the peanut gallery that was his booster seat at the kitchen table. The plate of fresh apple slices Mother had given _him_ already sat empty on his placemat.

"Hey, you won't be laughing when _your_ baby teeth start coming out!" Ed snapped.

"Now, boys." Mother turned from the counter with the applesauce. Her hand remained on the back of Ed's neck, guiding him firmly to the table, where she set the bowl down. "Eat it before it gets cold, Ed. I'm going outside now, to bring in the laundry from the clothesline."

Grumpily, Ed sat. He glowered down at the bowl until he heard the scrape of the screen door closing behind him; and only then did he raise his head, giving Al an evilly conspiratorial smile.

Al frowned. "You're gonna do something dumb, _aren't_ you, Brother?"

For answer, Ed reached into his pocket and produced one of the sticks of chalk he always carried. Spreading out his napkin, he proceeded to draw a transmutation circle on it. Al observed in silence, with skeptical eyes and a doubtful downward twist of a frown.

Once he had laid out his equations, Ed picked up the bowl of applesauce. Without hesitation, he dumped the entire contents on the napkin. He scraped the bowl with the spoon, to empty out every last speck of mashed apple. Then he set aside the dishes and gave his full focus to the transmutation, pressing his fingers down on the edge of the circle.

Blue light erupted, flashing and snapping around the pile of mush. Its separate particles began to bind together, coalescing into a solid, round form. By the time the transmutation was complete, it had all merged and hardened into…

Well, something that was _close_ to being a whole apple, anyway. It had no core, was missing its peel, and was rather brown from the cinnamon and the effects of boiling Ed couldn't compensate for. However, it was firm enough to be almost as crisp as it had been before it was cooked—which was all Ed really wanted. Even if it still tasted more like applesauce than a fresh apple, at least it wouldn't be _squishy_.

From across the table, Al eyed his big brother jadedly.

"I think this is a really bad idea…"

"Hush. You got _your_ apple the way you wanted it. Now it's _my_ turn!"

Feeling supremely proud of himself, Edward picked up his alchemically reconstituted apple. He took a big, crunching bite… and immediately felt a sharp twinge from his loose upper-front tooth, with the awful little _tearing_ sensation that was the last bit of anchoring skin giving way.

Ed's eyes grew wide. He spat out his bite of apple—which landed in the bowl with his tooth still embedded in it—and clapped a hand over his mouth with a howl of pain.

Heaving a put-upon sigh, Alphonse squirmed down from his booster seat, and wordlessly marched off to the back door to call for Mother.

* * *

 _2017 Jordanna Morgan_


End file.
